


...And Friends Just Can't Be Found

by 1f_this_be_madness



Series: A Boy And His Angel - Feathers and Legs [3]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Actually Lucifer just needed some more development and Gabriel needed to be around, Adam is a good cook, Adam wants to kick the empty's ass, All characters mentioned in flashback etc. Except Michael and Adam, And the Empty is going on like 'I've seen your worst failures and how you let down those you love', Archangel therapy would be nice, Being awake in the Empty is worse than the Cage, But we can't have nice things apparently, Childhood Memories, Christmas Cookies, Cooking, Death doesn't die, Dreams and Nightmares, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Feelings, Fluff and Angst, Gen, He lost all his possible character development, Holding Hands, Horror, How? Because you're alone, Hugs, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Lucifer bashing because, Lucifer deserved redemption but the writers fucked up, M/M, Memories, Michael doesn't do well internalizing, Michael rocks the hell out of a frilly apron, Michael tries to express his feelings, Michael tries to use his words and largely fails, Panic Attacks, Post-Canon, Protective Adam Milligan, Psychological Trauma, Raphael out here as the hardened soldier Michael wanted to be and that's tea, References to Supernatural (TV), Sad Michael, So do I to be honest, Supernatural is ours now, Swearing, Talking, yes i said it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-28
Updated: 2020-12-05
Packaged: 2021-03-09 21:54:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 3,886
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27763336
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/1f_this_be_madness/pseuds/1f_this_be_madness
Summary: "Look, I..." Adam taps his thumb on his knee as it bounces up and down. He looks at Michael out of the corner of his eye, at the angel rolling and re-rolling his shirt cuffs as if he needs his fingers to have something to do. "You don't have to talk about it, but. I just. You said you could still hear me, whenever I prayed to you." Michael's hands go stock-still. "And I just, I wondered..." Adam's knuckles have gone white as he clenches his hand, feeling his heart drop. "Was wherever - the place where you were -" gulping heavily and turning to the archangel, he asks, voicing something they haven't talked about: "Was it... was it as bad as the Cage, Michael?"It is as if Michael's body freezes, like he isn't breathing, which could be the case; adam still isn't entirely clear on what the archangel's body actually needs. But then it's like something snaps, and those stiff shoulders and strong hands begin shaking. Reaching out and taking Adam's hand, his voice barely audible as it sounds as if it's being forced out of his throat:"No, Adam. It was worse."(Or, after a while topside together, Adam wonders how Michael got back and where exactly he'd been when gone. So he decides to ask.)
Relationships: Michael & Adam Milligan, Michael/Adam Milligan
Series: A Boy And His Angel - Feathers and Legs [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2030632
Comments: 16
Kudos: 63





	1. Chapter 1

They have gotten into a routine. After that first night when Adam cooked himself and Michael supper, kicking off his scrubs and yanking on an oversized hoodie and sweatpants with fuzzy socks, something about which had caused the archangel's eyes to go soft, "I gotta be comfortable in my own place, what?" Adam had demanded, and Michael blinked. 

"You do appear - comfortable." Relaxed, he's sure, and Adam stays that way the more Michael hangs out. 

"I have a spare room," he offers. "Or, we can share, y'know, since -"

"I would prefer that," Michael confirms. Noticing the flush that crawls up Adam's neck to his face and ears subsequent to those words, the archangel immediately adds "In order to keep watch over you, of course."

Adam rolls his eyes, expression fond. Feathers is not fooling him one whit. "Yeah, of course."

They have this; Michael sits in the easy chair in Adam's room, because Adam doesn't sit on the couch much, hasn't had reason (or time) to, since he works a lot. But now that Michael is here, they settle on the sofa sometimes to watch cable, or more often Netflix. Michael finds an interest in procedural crime dramas of the British variety, and Adam returns after a long shift at work to see the angel ramrod-straight or leaning forward, eyes squinting at the screen. He always pauses the show and says "good evening, Adam" or "good morning" after Adam has worked the nightshift, and comes around the couch with a blanket or a cup of tea (once he learns how to make it on the stovetop without Adam's kettle boiling over). 

Washing clothes is a trifle harder; Michael overflowed the washer with suds that stretched nearly to the ceiling of the laundry room like snow, and Adam lost it at the pop-eyed helpless expression on the dark-haired being's face. He taught Michael about measuring quantities of soap and such which lessened the possibility of future mishaps. And he shouldn't be surprised, how easily they fit into a life together.

Even after their forced time apart.

*** 

That time, it's in the back of Adam's head, sometimes the front too, when Michael just...stops somewhere. It's like he goes away, in his head, maybe; except the slightest changes on his expression tell Adam the angel isn't going to a happy place. It's not the same as waking sweating and shuddering from nightmares, but it's equivalent. 

And one day, they're sitting together. Adam's on a stool at his half- island in the kitchen. He has been teaching Michael to cook, something both of them enjoy - Adam for the nostalgic feel of it, the memories it conjures of making tacos with his mom, or more often for her; how excited he had been the first time he didn't burn the edges of his homemade meatloaf; and how she'd always put some flour on his nose when they rolled out Christmas cookies. 

For Michael, he thinks it's probably interesting. The repetitive movements of slicing, cutting, rolling. How certain combinations of ingredients create tastes that he hadn't the chance to experience himself before - not in the human manner of experience, at least. But Adam has, and he watches and enjoys Michael's reactions to the food he makes. The angel's eyes widen and his face softens and he even wears an apron, now, of his own volition (after giving Adam a deluxe _Look_ the first time the young man put the loop around his head. Whether or not he at all enjoyed Adam's arms wrapped around his waist was another matter entirely).

But this evening, it's Adam's day off shift, and they're trying to make chicken enchiladas. Which means there is an abundance of diced tomatoes and cheese sauce and cans and cans of beans - so Michael has been unbuttoning his shirtsleeves and rolling the soft material evenly up over itself and over itself again before he slices peppers and cilantro to dump into the bowl of sauce that is to be poured atop the chicken. And if Adam is noticing the way his forearms clench and shift with the dark arm hair and how endearing the focus on Michael's face is, that's absolutely fine and not at all distracting for him.

"Look, I..." Adam taps his thumb on his knee as it bounces up and down. He looks at Michael out of the corner of his eye, at the angel rolling and re-rolling his shirt cuffs as if he needs his fingers to have something to do now that he's finished cutting vegetables and has shoved them over. "You don't have to talk about it, but. I just. You said you could still hear me, whenever I prayed to you. While you were, um. Gone." Michael's hands go stock-still. "And I just, I wondered..." Adam's knuckles have gone white as he clenches one hand, feeling his heart drop into his stomach before he stands up and picks up the cutting board to slide its contents into their mixing bowl. "Was wherever - the place where you were -" gulping heavily and turning back to the archangel, he finally asks, voicing something they haven't talked about: "Was it - was it as bad as the Cage, Michael?"

It is as if Michael's body freezes, like he isn't breathing subsequent to Adam's question, which could in fact be the case - Adam still isn't entirely clear on what the archangel's body actually needs. But then it's like something snaps, and those stiff shoulders and strong hands begin shaking. Reaching out and taking Adam's now-free hand, as he's dumped the veggies into the bowl and is ready to begin stirring them into the sauce, the archangel's voice is barely audible, sounding as if it's being forced out of his throat:

"No, Adam. It was worse."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well my family makes enchiladas together so that's where that came from...and now for angst even in this lil two-person family (because they ARE dang it Supernatural they're together and aLIVE) because I can't not write angsty things, I'm sorry
> 
> I hope you'll enjoy this, though - comments are always appreciated <3


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michael recalls his past, time at the Beginning, in the Cage, and in the Empty

Dark, blackness, but somehow more than that; Michael had been in space, once; had witnessed the fires of creation, had even created stars floating weightless in an expanse of dark. He was floating, and somehow could see so much. It is as though he glowed in that darkness, in the Beginning, a furnace in the fires of creating where pinpricks of light manifested and grew, flashing in the velvet expanse of space that at first held naught but silence. 

Such silence and the chill and pull, vague and distant, before the snap conjuring beacons of light that began to pulse and grow... it ceased, when his brothers would crow or laugh, ceased for eons until the period of creation when his Father formed humanity - and then said silence morphed, changed into one sullen and hard.

Yet even such silence was nothing close to the shadow. The Empty, vast and true _nothing_ where he had gone after the agony and bitterness of his ending - he had helped his Father a final time in desperation, in childish, useless hope that God would resurrect Adam. Would care enough to return the single being who cared for Michael himself, who grew to do so without ulterior motive or reservation, he had thought even after their thousand and more years locked in the Pit that something of the benevolent and loving Lord would shine, would return him to his duty, if not his place as the prince of Heaven.

But no, of course not. Michael can hear Lucifer's taunting voice, his ebullient guffaws as he swung and whirled himself around and around the Cage. _"Don't you see? Aren't you aware how pathetic you are, Mikey boy? Daddy Dearest doesn't care about you! He just wants us alllll to fall in line, to make our moves in his big ol' chess game. Except it's mah jong, too, and goh - all rolled into one big ineffable mess, and he's got all the pieces! None of us can do a thing for ourselves unless we walk right off his board!" Snap "Just like Gabriel did. He saw his chance and poof! Sly little Gabe, the baby, he cut away his face. And even then you know where he ended up? Yeah, that's right - on the tip of my blade. I killed him, big brother!"_ That voice was soft, crooning, almost gentle; only in the nothingness did it become a roar, did the Presence of that Empty, that un-place, push every awful thing, every word and thought and memory from the Cage into Michael's head again. Times tenfold, a hundredfold.

"...and there was no respite," the archangel's voice is infinitesimal. His entire body is shaking now, as Adam keeps holding onto his hand. His own throat burns as do his eyes with the remembered horrors of the Cage, and the empathetic sorrow and terror to hear that Michael was forced in essence to relive them. Yet he continues, eyes lifting to gaze a moment into Adam's. "I heard and saw nothing but... the horrors of my failings." He swallows. "Save when I could - when I heard you."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I fear my descriptions above cannot do justice to the horror I imagine the Empty to truly be, because if it is awake, it is angry, and would force inhabitants to relive their worst moments over and over and over again. And for Michael, this time, he was forced to face all of them alone
> 
> At least on Earth again he has Adam :)
> 
> Comments welcome <3


	3. Chapter 3

Michael is still shaking, though his face is controlled, almost blank save for a deep flash in his eyes, an agony that Adam can see, can feel as memories of the Cage crash into him, constricting his chest with ragged slices, pounding into his head and hanging behind his eyes. Enchiladas forgotten, or rather put on hold, Adam covers the sauce bowl and goes deliberately to untie the apron for Michael, to gently lift and take it off his head; and the ache of ancient loneliness and pain whirling through Michael's eyes, making them darker, causes a lurching sensation to manifest in Adam's own chest. 

"Mike," he whispers, fingers pausing, tips resting lightly on the sides of the archangel's neck before smoothing across his shoulders and grasping his upper arms. "Hey, it's... I'm here," he isn't going to say 'it's okay' because no, everything Michael suffered is the exact opposite of okay, and Adam is not going to negate his responses, either of their responses to what happened just because some people wanted to be absolved. Anyway. At the look in Michael's eyes, Adam wants so badly to kick the crap out of the Empty, and says so.

A tiny twitch of the angel's mouth precedes his voice sounding rough "You would be exerting force upon nothingness, but I do appreciate your vehemence. Truly." A spark seems to catch in his eyes and Michael tips his face to focus solidly on Adam's. "Your voice saved me," he says, without a trace of irony (never mind the angel still at times has trouble with that) but, more to the point, his deadpan tone cracks and there is a burning light in his eyes.

Adam shrugs, choosing to try for a bit of humor "First time I've been talking a lot it was actually good for something," but the self-deprecation is physically halted when Michael grips his arms in turn before lifting hands to forcibly take hold of Adam's face.

"No," Michael shakes his head jerkily, eyes boring into Adam's. "You _saved_ me," he says, shaking at last starting to abate as his body curls close to Adam's and he hangs on. "I need you to understand. In the - Empty, as in the Cage - without your presence or your words," _without your humanity, which I have come to respect - without YOU, Adam Milligan,_ "I -"

"I know, Feathers," Adam's tone is sweet, soft, and his arms come out to wrap Michael in a hug. His voice is muffled in the shirt on Michael's shoulder as he blurts "If you weren't there for me, I would have been lost too."


	4. Chapter 4

But Michael's body stiffens before he practically collapses in Adam's arms - as if he cannot stop himself or his descent, though everything of him is agonized and pulling away in shame as he says "But I was not with you, I couldn't respond, even though I could hear -" _everything, every time Adam begged with voice wrecked, every time he tried to dryly discount his begging but the deadpan tone was a sham. Every time he told Michael the most mundane aspects of his renewed acquisition of human life, causing the other to ache because he was not with him_ yet they are together now, and somehow this is WRONG.

Michael was always meant to be the protector. The preserver. The older brother who listened, even when his younger siblings were having tantrums, he listened to what they had to say. He did his best to keep the peace and then to focus on his duties and on what's right, as it is - it WAS his job, yes. For his Father, his family. And yet also as the older sibling. How many times, in the manner of the hierarchy of Heaven, had he been told to set a good example for his brothers? And the schism, fallout from the Cage and from his choice made when he had nothing else left, to serve God a final time in order to get back the only decent thing, the one being who had never cared about him because of his status and stature in Heaven as Saint Michael the soldier whose Sword shone in the Sun; who helped to save God's children when all the wars were won. No; in fact he was not cared for in a positive way for at the very least a hundred years in Hell.

Only after, in the slowest of increments had there blossomed a sense of companionship, of curiosity and intimacy that grew and warmed into this, this painful strong unbreakable _thing_ that somehow possessed power enough to call Michael back from angelic death. To pierce through sheer emptiness not only to him, but so that others had noticed.

The Shadow had noticed, and God had noticed.

It had been a different signature of power coming from God. A signature that blasted into the Empty as would a hand lifting from the dark, twisted, landing upon a darkly shining stock of a weapon bound in the screams of wayward souls and yet moving with touch lighter than a kiss. The heft, a weight like the world or the universe at large (if groans rocking through nothingness were enough to go on) this implement rose, and a being with a hatchet-like face, shining dark eyes and skin paler than bones, steps into nothingness without scuffing his shiny shoes. A sound occurs, emerging with the figure, as if the final breaths of every creature could rattle up behind this figure sweeping through.

_O - o - oh Death_

Crooning continues in gargles and rattles and screams despite the rising ire of the Empty, the way nothingness attempts to reform, re-assert itself and force quiet - blissful uninterruptible _SILENCE_ back upon those meant to be sleeping within its realm. 

But Michael felt that wave of inexorable exhaustion flooding through the nothing, and resisted. He thrashed and fought, because a pair of stormy eyes stared accusingly at him, dry voice telling him to get out, to come back, to come _home._ And as his flailing limbs met the heavy stonelike staff that holds the coldest rending blade and drips with blood, the archangel Michael for the first time in all his millennia, pled. He clutched to the pommel of the Scythe that separates life and death, and begged to come back. 

"I must return - I must. I need him, and -" _I hope I hope I hope_ since when had he ever hoped before? "...he I."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can you guess who showed up in the Empty? Someone poor Michael thinks has God's power, but...
> 
> This is entirely self-indulgent, but I also do not believe Dean actually killed Death. I don't care that he swung the Scythe. No human being can defeat death, not even a Winchester. OG Death just... became less visible for a while. 
> 
> He appears when something upsets the balance, but he never truly left.
> 
> Comments appreciated :)


	5. Chapter 5

There was a hint of dry amusement, then; not surprised, but measured as the face of this powerful being tipped to study Michael's. To calculate, but not in the manner he saw his Father do; no, this is even more objective, distant, yet somehow shocked. A brow in a hatchet-like countenance, fingers bone white as they grasped hold of Michael's form, his Grace. 

"Shining so bright," a voice said, a heavy tone that carried with it everything, slowing and marching towards the inexorable. Michael had been nearly unable to speak as the touch, one that was... dusty in some sense. It stole not his breath, for he had no need to breathe, but froze within his essence, the core of the archangel's being even as it called - as _he_ called - incessantly

To "...You mean to go back," the being adds "your intent is to be remade, returned...," Pausing then as if in contemplation, because there is no confusion, nothing so unsure upon that face "...to reform yourself for the benefit of a human?"

This is asked of him coolly, and Michael stares. He blinks and nods in certainty. But he must speak truthfully, and the most important truth of the matter is "I am going back for him. For Adam." He speaks the name, puts all of himself into feeling as something like care, compassion burns into the archangel's core as well as his eyes.

With power, the being turns, gaze drifting away, and "You were right," that level voice says as another, brighter signature flows. Michael flinches as the emptiness shudders, as he feels the sheer vitriol of poisonous rage screaming through everything and nothing **_GET OUT_**

"I knew it," swooping dark hair, a pale oval face and clear eyes joins this other power, appearing as life and death, dark and light. The angel cannot grasp all that is before his eyes, now blurring. Muffled, still the second voice continues to speak: "I felt it when I was with him before. They need each other."

A slight huff from the former. "Well then." A gesture that Michael hardly sees as darkness fast encroaches. "Shall we?"

A smile, prefacing blindness and the heavy touch that catches, pushes -

"I think so."

Compression, tugging at his very essence, as if he is to be turned inside out - can this happen? Has he not already been unmade?

"We shall."

"Adam -"

_Michael!_

Darkness, nothing, and then stretching until a cacophonous roar of feelings, of beings descend and follow -

A burst of light, and impact that sends every aspect of the angel into a standstill, crushing agony as had occurred again and again in that prison he thought he'd been rid of

No -

He had been safe; they were safe, together -

_Hey, hey. Come on, stay with me. You're not winking out on me now that I've finally figured out how to put up with you._

He is burning, everything burns; full to the brim of sensitivity, tasting sweet iron on his tongue, feeling that yes, he has a tongue - a heartbeat as well, and lungs - and then sound crashes, hurtling object hums, and speeding at the angel is a vehicle holding the need he felt within. His other half, his reason for returning. 

_Adam._

And Michael had moved without any compunction then, only to make it whereto he must.

So there on asphalt in front of an emergency vehicle - spread-eagled, remade - so many all-encompassing experiences at once, terror and exhaustion, confusion and pain felt in a manner entirely _human_ for the first time in all of his millennia crashing upon him harder than even his initial descent into the Pit and the Cage, the archangel Michael does.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This might not be wholly understandable, but the gist of it is showing how Michael was ejected from the Empty. He remembers and thinks of some words Adam has said to him
> 
> Comments appreciated <3


	6. Chapter 6

Food forgotten for the moment, for all these moments, Adam finds himself holding on to a shaking Michael.

He rubs his hands up and down the angel's back in soothing firm movements, feeling the way Mike jumps and shudders and then buries himself into Adam's touch at last, losing the stiffness inherent in his stance as Adam whispers "You're here now, Mike. I gotcha". He is blinking hard and ducking to nestle his chin atop Michael's shoulder, one hand pushing up through dark hair and stroking the length of it that is almost long enough to become curls.

He hasn't quite gotten used to every minute _human_ movement that Michael makes. He is still very much an angel, there are sparks in his eyes and tones of his voice. The sharp tilts and jerks of his face, lowering of chin and how he still flares his shoulder blades to use his wings. Protective, yet also timid, now, for the first time since they began growing closer in the Cage - though his feathers would be ruffled were Adam to say anything that indicates said timidity. He simply seems... unsure, and that aspect manifested in this moment makes Adam hold on to him even tighter.

The archangel shifts and the side of his face, pressed to Adam's, bunches as muscles work, and Adam registers what is happening as his jaw and teeth were subject to aching when they shared. "Hey," he whispers into Michael's nearer ear. "'S okay, Feathers. Unclench, c'mon." Adam feels his heart hammering even as he keeps his tone of voice calm. Almost monotone. Not a far cry from his typical dryness but meant as a soothing tactic (because even without having access to Michael's emotions via his mind as they both were used to, Adam can tell that whatever Michael is thinking of and beginning to remember is starting what accounts for an angelic spiral).

Might not be classified as panic in the same sense that humans feel it, but Michael is spiralling. He's panicking. Adam cannot be totally clear on whether he has hauled in a real deep breath since he's been hanging on to him. The angel's chest has been heaving shallowly against Adam's, and he's still not clear whether or not the angel NEEDS to breathe. But when they were sharing the same body Adam needed to breathe so of course Michael did. Yet he is standing, slumping into Adam with body shaking and his chest is not moving with real, deep, lung-filling breaths. Adam, still rubbing the other's back, massaging in an attempt to soothe him into taking in some air, clears his throat and utters "... Michael? Are you going to uh, take a breath? I'd like it if you did that for me."

Michael simply stares at him as Adam has withdrawn enough to look in his eyes. _Right. Archangel. Probably doesn't actually need to breathe the air for some reason... but this isn't a regular vessel, so everything is different. That's - odd as fuck_ Adam thinks.

But something either in his voice or eyes or expression, or perhaps it's the fact he is still so close to him, makes the archangel flare his nostrils and nod, inhaling deeply enough not only for Adam to hear it but to see his chest rise and fall. His features begin to color, as he was pale, and the part of Adam that wasn't clinically focused on the act of breathing nearly makes his body buckle with relief.

"Okay, we - I can, uh, finish making the food. We'll eat and you can relax rather than...try to talk any more about that stuff. You don't have to," his eyes hold Michael's gaze, reminding him there are no orders here. He will not be forced into anything. "Okay? Not until you're ready."

"Okay," Michael's tone is not quite rough, but it is incredibly quiet. In his eyes shine gratitude, because Adam understands.

...And isn't that strange, to live for millions of years before a human comes to understand him?

Adam knows about needing time. Boy, does he get it - and by the slightest crinkling of the skin around Michael's eyes subsequent to his nod, the archangel understands too.

They will be okay as long as they are here to help each other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is it for this piece. They'll talk more and parse out feelings - as well as keep talking through what happened to Michael - later on in this series
> 
> Comments appreciated :)


End file.
